


alone.

by delicatecherries



Series: afterword. [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie is only mentioned because he's dead I am so sorry, M/M, This entire fic is basically sad face lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-16 13:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20825804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatecherries/pseuds/delicatecherries
Summary: richie can't get over eddie.





	alone.

**Author's Note:**

> well this is certainly upsetting!

richie pretended that he could feel him. he pretended that he was holding him in his arms, the steady rise and fall of his chest the only thing that could be heard. he pretended that the warmth of his body made the cold room a bit more bearable. he pretended that everything was okay, and the day after that would be too, that every single day would be alright.

but he was alone. richie was completely and utterly alone in the dimly lit, freezing cold motel room. he knew he had to stop imagining these things. imagining eddie was here with him, imagining that they could be happy together, but most of the time the thoughts slipped in unnoticed. the worst thought he ever had was thinking that when it was defeated, he would confess, and eddie would accept it, and they would kiss and be happy.

things never turn out like that, though. never for richie

he always had the short end of the stick, always the one getting caught first, always the one being kicked and shoved first, always the one who lost everything. richie should be used to it by now. he should be used to losing everything, but he wasn't. eddie being gone still felt foreign to him even after two months. it was funny, he had completely forgotten the love of his life for almost twenty seven years, but now he thought about him everyday. he was no longer in derry, yet thought about eddie more than he thought about taking care of himself. his health was staggering, his hair always a tangled mess, just because he cared more about the memory of eddie than his tangible, physical body.

richie got up from the cheap twin bed and grabbed his car keys. he needed to get away again. he had been on the road ever since he left derry. missed calls from his manager blew up his phone everyday, but he ignored them all. every night or two it was a different cheap motel but they always felt the same.

empty.

without eddie, everything felt empty to richie. when he ate, he felt nothing. when he woke up in the mornings, he felt completely numb. the only time he felt anything of substance was when he drank, but then he just felt pain. when he drank he remembered everything more vividly. being in the sewers with the losers, the failed ritual that made them split, how eddie was impaled. he was so happy before that, so proud of himself, but then...

richie opened his car door and slammed it shut. soon, he was off again. he had no suitcase or new clothes, he had been wearing the same outfit ever since he left derry, all of his things still in his room at the derry town house besides his phone. now that he thought about it, maybe he could drive back and get them.

he immediately shot this idea down. he could never go back. eddie was dead. derry was where eddie died. richie could never subject himself to that pain. he's mourned for only two months but they felt like an eternity. all of his thoughts were about eddie, even when he didn't want them to be. when he bought a motel room for the night and the poor sap working at the desk gave him the key, he thought about eddie. when he put the key into his door's lock and turned it, hearing the little click every single time, he thought about eddie. he was ingrained into his being like a carving was ingrained into the side of a tree, or a

bridge.

the kissing bridge.

R + E.

richie had to pull the car over so he could vomit his insides out the window. he had started crying, too, tears and snot and vomit staining the lower part of his face. he put his hands over his eyes and he started crying even harder. he cried and cried until he couldn't feel anything anymore. not his body, not the pain in the back of his throat, and not the wave of emotions that had overtaken him in the first place. numbness engulfed him completely. the crying had stopped at this point, being replaced by a low hum. richie hummed and rocked in his seat, still numb but at the same time beginning to feel everything all over again. as he rocked with his hands around his legs, curled up in the car seat, richie continued the hum. the emotions that had gripped him before began to grip him again like a bony hand on his shoulder but he ignored it. he felt strangely calm like this, almost entirely peaceful. his thoughts were occupied by nothing except the apparent need to keep rocking and humming, just like this, for eternity. when he finally came back to reality, and the humming and rocking eventually stopped, everything came flooding back like rushing water.

and richie cried again.


End file.
